


Kylux One-Shots Anthology

by trekwars777



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M, Southern Gothic AU, nice and fluffy, random one-shots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-25 12:23:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9820436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trekwars777/pseuds/trekwars777
Summary: Just a random stash of Kylux one-shots I've written.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1. The Axeman's Jazz 

"Hux, you have no idea how exciting this is." The blonde girl equipped him with a camera bag and pushed hair out of his eyes. "Just think- we're gonna catch a ghost on tape!" 

"I know, right? I even did some research- they say that this ghost, the Axeman, wouldn't kill anyone if jazz music is playing."

"Well, how are you gonna get out alive if something bad happens?" 

"Elementary, my dear Phasma. I have a secret weapon," he said, patting his case before getting in the car. Phasma kissed his forehead for good luck as he started the car. 

"Good luck out there, Dave. Call me if you need anything."

"Okay Lennie, though I doubt it." He left the driveway and waved goodbye to her as he drove off into the night. 

 _He's either really brave or really dumb to do this, especially with this ghost,_ Lennie thought to herself. 

* * *

The antebellum mansion where the ghost was said to allegedly haunt was now derelict and desolate, only a former shell of what it once was. Hux walked in, turned on his flashlight, and explored the place. Upstairs, there were bedrooms, their linens and curtains tattered and moth-bitten, the windows smashed and practically destroyed. Hux ran downstairs and into the parlor with just a minute to spare. For a ghost hunter like him, time was of the essence. One blink and he missed it. Gingerly, he opened his case and looked inside. It was eerily quiet, save for the sound of his pulse and the clock ticking in the background.

 _Thirty seconds... oh, why did I let Lennie talk me into this? I'm tired, I'm freezing, and I'm flat-out frightened!_ he thought to himself. 

_DONG! DONG! DONG! DONG!_

The clock struck twelve, which caused Hux to snap at attention. He felt his pulse start rushing, the adrenaline caused him to grab the camera and look around for anything that went bump in the night. He turned around, and what he saw- was frightening. 

A gaunt young man with wavy black hair, his shirt and pants stained with blood along with his spats, stared menacingly at Hux. In his right hand was a blood stained axe. The color from Hux's face instantly drained away upon seeing the ghost. 

It was the Axeman. 

"Evenin'," drawled the ghost as if nothing happened. 

"A-are you the Axeman?" Hux questioned, trembling slightly. 

"Nope, I'm the King of Prussia," he retorted, just before swinging his weapon violently at a table, which fell with a loud crash. 

"Is that proof enough for yer pryin' eyes, Yankee? I am the Axeman, and there ain't nothing you can do about it," he roared. "Ya got a problem?" 

Hux felt himself start to scramble backwards with sheer terror. It was like a nightmare gone wrong. He bumped into something and looked up in horror to find himself face to face with a nearly skeletal Southern belle. 

"Oh, I beg your pardon!" she said, whirling across the room to embrace a young soldier. An elderly Confederate general pounding a bottle of whiskey began singing "When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again" drunkenly at the top of his lungs. Two ghostly children, a black girl and a white boy, ran through the parlor laughing and chanting a playground rhyme. In the backyard, a flapper's ghost drove a flivver like a bumper car as her boyfriend held on for dear life. 

"Am I having a really bad nightmare, or did Lennie put some psychedelic in my coffee?" Hux thought out loud, still recording all the bedlam that was going on. The Axeman approached him, laughing maliciously. 

"Like what ya see there, boy? This could all be yours- as punishment for invadin' on my house!" The axe was now directly across his neck, and a wicked gleam was in the spirit's eyes. 

"What if I don't want it?" Hux snarled back, mustering up all the courage he could, rocking backwards on the heel of his boot. 

"Beg pardon?" hissed the ghost. 

"What if I want to live? And you know I do. I love this city, I love my job, and frankly, this ain't the first time a ghost's threatened me," he spat back. 

"Boy, you drive a hard bargain. I'm feelin' a mite generous tonight, so I'll make a deal with you." 

"I'll take it." The ghost threw back his head and laughed. 

"You ain't even heard it and y'all already game? Boy, you mortals can be dumb as hell sometimes!" 

"What's the challenge?" Hux rebuked, already more than a bit annoyed. "I'll play jazz so you won't kill me, I'm prepared."

"Well, lookit who done decided to do his homework!" crowed the spirit to the other ghosts around him, who laughed psychotically. "Well, now that ya mentioned jazz, I'm fixin' for ya to play something for me. The piano's over there," he said, gesturing to a derelict piano missing more than twenty keys. 

"Thanks, but I won't be needing it, I brought my own," Hux replied, grabbing his case from the couch. He opened it to reveal a gleaming soprano saxophone, setting it up with great care. 

"Oh, guess I doubted you, son. Seems we have a Sidney Bechet in our presence, y'all!  Better strike up the band!" he said as Hux finished putting the reed on the mouthpiece and tightening the ligature. 

"Alright, what do you want me to play?" he retorted, saxophone in hand. 

"When the Saints Go Marching In. Doubt some Yankee like you could jazz it up. Tell ya what, if I like it, you'll live. If it's bad, then ya die. Sound good?"

"I accept the challenge," Hux said. He had to admit his soprano sax playing wasn't up to par with Kenny G, but he had his own style. Behind him, a small band of ghosts began to form. One sat at the piano, another managed to materialize a string bass out of midair, while the trumpet and trombone players stood next to him. The drummer gave the downbeat, and the band, save for Hux, began playing a dirge-like rendition of the song. 

"How come you're not playing?" the Axeman yelled furiously. Hux only laughed and smiled. 

"Just you wait," he countered, signaling to the drummer to pick up the beat. She nodded and beat her sticks on the drums at lightning speed. The bass player, inspired and excited, began slapping the strings on the fretboard as the band began a swinging rendition of the song. 

_Oh when the saints (Oh when the saints!)_

_Go marchin in (go marchin in!)_

_Oh when the saints go marchin in (marchin in!)_

_Yes we'll all get up and join em_

_When the saints go marchin in! (marchin in!)_

As the ghosts around him sang and clapped along, Hux closed his eyes, raised the mouthpiece to his lips, and began to play. The Axeman was shocked- how could this skinny Yankee boy with a sax play such hot jazz? It was bizarre, a sin to say the least! Yet there was something about him- the youthful energy, the way he played so passionately- there was something special about him. Admitting defeat, he smiled and began to sing along. 

 _Yes, we'll all get up and join them, when the saints go marchin in!_ Hux kept playing his saxophone with pride and power, swerving with the melody and raising it up with every high note he played. The ghosts whirled around and danced, Hux was the pied piper leading them in a spirited dance. 

"Quiet, everyone, let the boy play solo now," the Axeman said in admiration. Hux's pride swelled as he played the last languid, joyous notes of the song with passion and emotion, the saxophone's bell pointed skyward. The spirits cheered and whistled, winded from all the singing and dancing, but happy nonetheless. 

"Boy, I shouldn'tve doubted you. You play a mean jazz! So for that, I'm gonna spare ya," he said, with a smile.

"Really?" 

"Really. I ain't ever heard a sax like that in a long time. In fact, it put my old soul at peace. If I may have the honor of hearing you play one last time before I leave?" he implored. Hux smiled and had to agree. 

"You bet. Hopefully next All Soul's Day, we'll meet again," he said a bit longingly. The rest of the ghosts began to disappear one by one until it was only the two of them. Hux closed his eyes and began playing a longing blues melody, one that could make your heart ache... but get you to sing. 

_I hate to see the evening sun go down_

_I hate to see the evening sun go down_

_Cause my baby she done left this town..._ The ghost was singing, his voice a rich and earthy baritone drenched with nostalgia and the blues. 

Hux played a yearning obbligato as the ghost sang, fading out of view until only his voice lingered in the midnight air. One last note was played, and then there was silence.No one moved a muscle, the only sound were crickets. Hux smiled and put the saxophone back in it's case. He then picked up the camera, stopped recording, and watched part of the footage. Smiling secretly to himself, he put it back in the bag. 

 _Lennie won't believe it, but who cares? I'm the only one that knows,_ he said, humming When the Saints Go Marching In to himself as he left the mansion. 

 


	2. What Ever Happened to Indoor Recess and Mustard Pancakes?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this one-shot in play form was a bit of a challenge for me, but I enjoyed doing it. The idea came to me during a rainy day, one of those days that makes you feel very nostalgic and sentimental. Some of the things mentioned (Pebble and the Penguin, Mustard Pancakes), are things I remember from my childhood. I hope you enjoy this lovely little piece of fluff.

 

CHARACTERS:

BEN- thoughtful, can be a bit moody but mainly nostalgic, a writer currently working on a memoir

ARMIE- philosophical, wise beyond his years, a lawyer who works for the Phasma firm

SETTING: Ben’s apartment

(LIGHTS UP on the Seattle apartment of BEN SOLO. The apartment has a wall-to-ceiling bookshelf stage right, a picture window upstage center, and a poster of Jim Morrison on the wall stage left. Center stage has a couch and a coffee table- this is where most of the action takes place. A small coffeemaker is on an oak table downstage right and a desk with a vintage typewriter is upstage left. BEN is sitting on the couch, drinking coffee. He picks up a journal from the coffee table and jots down a few notes in it. A clap of thunder is heard in the background, accompanied by a soft rainstorm. Just then, an offstage knock is heard.)

BEN: One sec. (He goes off to the right.) Hey, great to see you! (He returns with ARMIE, a young lawyer in his late 20s. He has just come in from the rain, as shown by his attire- a black coat over his clothes, a red scarf, and a black beret showing off part of his red hair. He sets down his leather briefcase and takes off his coat.)

ARMIE: Sorry to barge in like this, Ben. How are you? (They hug just like old friends.)

BEN: I’m great, want some coffee?

ARMIE: Sure, just don’t give me any of the shitty powdered creamer like they have at the office. Gwen’s been pestering her dad to buy the real thing, but apparently he’s too cheap to give us the good stuff. So basically, when I drink my coffee it feels like I’m swallowing baby powder.

BEN: I agree, that kind just shouldn’t exist- period! (HE laughs) So what brings you here?

ARMIE: Oh, just because. (BEN raises an eyebrow, the rain in the background gets slightly torrential.) Why the raised eyebrow? Are you doubting me?

BEN: You don’t usually come around and visit often. Usually, it’s the other way around. I still remember how Millicent attacked me last time. (HE crosses to the coffeemaker and hands ARMIE a mug.)

ARMIE: Hey, change is good. (He’s about to take a sip when he notices something’s missing.) No cream and sugar?

BEN: Oh! Duh, stupid me! (He exits stage left and comes back with a bottle of creamer and a sugar bowl.) Thanks for the reminder, dude.

ARMIE: No problem. (He takes a sip.) You know what I hate about the rain? It makes the commute a real bitch.

BEN: You can say that again. (The thunder rolls once more.) So, how’s the firm been treating you?

ARMIE: Gwen just finished a homicide trial, and let me tell you- she took names and kicked ass. Just as soon as she stepped in, the defendant couldn’t help but to plead guilty.

BEN: Just like that? (snaps fingers)

ARMIE: Yeah. To be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if she ran for D.A. and won.

BEN: Hell, I could be her speech writer. I even came up with some sort of tagline: “If I, Gwendoline Lenina Phasma, have the honor of being your district attorney, I will defend your rights until my term is up.” (laughs) It’s a very work in progress.

ARMIE: I could tell. (The apartment lights flicker gently.) Wonder if there’s gonna be a power outage…

BEN: Who knows? It might last a minute, or a few hours. (A beat.) Remember the power outage in elementary school?

ARMIE: Oh, yeah- the lights were out for a full two hours and we completely freaked out. It’s a bit of a hazy memory for me, but there’s some things I do remember.

BEN: Yeah, like how Mrs. Connix used it as an opportunity to teach us about stalagmites and stalactites. (a slight chuckle) Hell, even now I forget which one’s which.

ARMIE: Now that you mention it, I think that the two of us pretended to be bears hibernating.

BEN: I’m pretty sure we did that as an excuse to take a nap. Remember how when we were kids we refused to take naps?

ARMIE: That all changed when we became stressed-out teens and college kids.

BEN: I bet you took tons of naps back at Cornell, huh?

ARMIE: Not exactly- more like once a month. And to top it all off, there were practices for the wind and jazz ensembles besides all the crap I had to study for. (BEN nods)

BEN: Whatever happened to your instruments?

ARMIE: I sold the clarinet, but I think I have the alto at home somewhere.

BEN: Thank God you didn’t make the mistake I did and played baritone sax.

ARMIE: Hey, you marched while playing that, so chances are you’re probably strong enough to hold and play a tuba! (Crosses to the coffeemaker and gets more coffee.) God, rainy days like these always take me back to when I was a kid. (It dawns on him) I remember some days like these- sometimes my grandma would take me to this one Wendy’s just across a shopping center. I’d like to mix it up, but I’d mostly get the chicken nuggets and she’d get chili. Once the food was brought to us, we’d stare out these big windows and watch people go by in their cars. But most of the time, I’d play in the solarium and watch the rain fall on the skylight. We’d then have either this potato cheese soup that I was absolutely certain they served in heaven or that Lipton noodle soup, y’know, the one that vaguely tastes like a cross between chicken broth and melted butter?

BEN: Yeah, to me, that soup was sweet manna from heaven. When I hit kindergarten, I was so shocked when they didn’t serve that kind of soup in the cafeteria for hot lunch. In the end, it just didn’t matter to me- water off a duck’s back. (A beat) When you mentioned rainy days with your grandma, it got me thinking of my childhood. Every Wednesday when we had short days, grandma and grandpa would pick me up from school and they’d take me on outings to the local farmer’s market, this children’s museum- anywhere. But most of the time, when I was at their house, I’d do my homework and then watch cartoons after that. _Arthur_ was a huge favorite of mine.

ARMIE: Not just because of the countless memes, huh?

BEN: (laughs) No, but because he was just so relatable. I even remember my favorite episode- it only came on like once in a blue moon.

ARMIE: Kinda like the _Animusic_ specials on PBS. I remember being at home one night as a kid and watching the Harmonic Voltage part. It was so surreal, I was mesmerized.

BEN: Yep. Anyway, the episode was about them putting on some play to celebrate the centennial of their town. I remember both the Yankee Doodle parody and the finale number, but only vaguely. One thing I do remember clearly was this other show I used to watch- it was at either eight or nine in the morning. (ARMIE smiles) I have a hunch you’d think the title would be ridiculous.

ARMIE: Oh, come on. What makes you think that?

BEN: I can see the smirk on your face.

ARMIE: I could be smirking about something else.

BEN: I haven’t even said the title yet?

ARMIE: Go on then.

BEN: I can tell you’re gonna think it’s dumb.

ARMIE: Just say it, Ben!

BEN: Fine, here it comes.

ARMIE: About time.

BEN: It was called… (drumrolls on coffee table)

ARMIE: Yes… (BEN keeps drumrolling)

BEN: Ya ready?

ARMIE: I already told you…

BEN: Ya sure?

ARMIE: Spit it out!

BEN: Here it comes…

ARMIE: Good Lord. (ten second pause)

BEN: _Mustard Pancakes._ (ARMIE stifles his laughter and BEN cocks an eyebrow at him.) You said you wouldn’t laugh! (ARMIE bursts into raucous laughter. BEN, admitting defeat, joins in.)

ARMIE: What kind of a name is that?

BEN: It was a kid’s show! (BOTH are still laughing. They then stop and ARMIE mills over the name for a moment.) The name’s supposed to sound ridiculous!

ARMIE: I don’t think I remember that one, to be honest.

BEN: I think it was about some lady who lived in either Canada or New England with her three puppet dogs and cat. It seemed kinda weird how she shared a home with her four pets and no other human would appear on the show. 

ARMIE: Y’know, I think I do remember that show somehow. I remember some show with multi-colored dogs that would give a rock concert to a group of kids.

BEN: I vaguely remember that one, too. Basically, my dream was to be on either _Postcards from Buster_ or _Fetch! With Ruff Ruffman._ I gave up the _Postcards from Buster_ dream because I highly doubt they’d want to go to a place like Mishawaka, but then again, they went to more exciting places. And _Ruff Ruffman_ was out of the question, because we didn’t know how to sign up for it. (sighs) Isn’t it weird to think that as kids, we didn’t care about the future-the only things that mattered were the cartoons we watched, whether the hot lunch at school would be good, and who’d get the Legos for indoor recess.

ARMIE: As a matter of fact, I can distinctly recall you being the one who hogged the Legos.

BEN: You still remember that after all these years?

ARMIE: Um, yeah! You were a selfish little dude back then! (THEY laugh) Remember how on rainy days, they’d even serve us lunch indoors?

BEN: Yeah, and then they’d show either a Don Bluth or Disney movie. I distinctly remember being a third grader and watching _The Pebble and the Penguin._

ARMIE: You remember that and _Mustard Pancakes_ at twenty-eight? Geez, you’ve either got a time machine or some extreme long-term memory. (Pause) Come to think of it, I can remember that movie too.

BEN: Yeah, the “Good Ship Misery” musical number gave me the creeps, and I remember crying because of the happy ending. It’s funny how nearly every Don Bluth movie tends to punch you right in the feels. _All Dogs Go to Heaven, Thumbelina, The Land Before Time, Secret of NIMH, Anastasia, Rock-A-Doodle…_ the only one that wasn’t a musical that I remember was _Titan A.E._

ARMIE: _Titan A.E?_ When did we watch that?

BEN: Oh, that was for the film club back in community college. We decided that we would end 2016 with a bang by watching animated movies. No, not anything like Disney or Dreamworks, we watched films that were kind of artsy.

ARMIE: Oh, I remember now! We watched _Yellow Submarine_ and that man in the moon movie!

BEN: _Moon Man?_ Yeah, that was a good one. I think that was the movie that just compelled me to keep writing, maybe because of the aesthetic of it all.

ARMIE: (with a fake French accent) Spoken like a true artiste.

BEN: I guess if I saw that movie when I was a kid, I would’ve either been creeped out by it or mesmerized with the colors, kinda like the Disney version of _Alice in Wonderland._

ARMIE: I gotcha there. I guess if I were to watch _Pebble and the Penguin_ now, I can just sort of visualize it as a Broadway musical, y’know. Lavish sets, people in black and white clothes that makes them look human yet you know their penguins, a full orchestra in the pit…

BEN: Let me guess, you’re in the pit, huh?

ARMIE: Yes, with my alto sax and clarinet. (He laughs) God, how did we end up on this huge tangent?

BEN: I think it was because of the rain, _Mustard Pancakes,_ and good childhood memories, among other things. (Dawning on him) I guess this all started with the rainy day recess memory I had.

ARMIE: All these stories we told each other today would make for a really good memoir.

BEN: Y’know, you’ve got a really good idea going on there. You could be my co-author.

ARMIE: You really think so?

BEN: I’ve seen you churn out some pretty wordy documents for law, so you could handle a two-hundred or so page memoir.

ARMIE: You really think so?

BEN: I know so. (HE smiles at ARMIE. Completely swept in the moment, BEN leans towards ARMIE and kisses him tenderly. ARMIE doesn’t even fight back, he just goes with it. THEY part for a moment and look at each other. There is a moment of silence, which is then broken by ARMIE’s curiosity.)

ARMIE: What was that for?  

BEN: Was that too sudden?

ARMIE: (stammering) N-no, a-I-actually… that felt… wonderful. (BEN smiles knowingly.)

BEN: Glad you thought so. Say, how about you come by next Friday afternoon?

ARMIE: I have a day off next Friday. Why do you ask?

BEN: I could use some help with that memoir, and maybe we could see a movie afterwards.

ARMIE: Is that a date?

BEN: I guess you could call it that.

ARMIE: Then I’ll gladly go. (HE looks down at his watch.) Oh, crap, I gotta get home- got some stuff to take care of. (BEN gets up and hands ARMIE his coat and umbrella.)

BEN: I’ll walk you out, okay? (ARMIE eases himself into his coat and BEN hands his umbrella to him.)

ARMIE: Thanks, Ben, you’re a real pal. (They head stage right, the same place that ARMIE entered a while ago.) How does Friday at two thirty sound?

BEN: Perfect. Look man, it was great to see you again. (ARMIE starts to exit towards stage right.)

ARMIE: Likewise. I guess I’ll see you around then.

BEN: That’s a thing I can count on. (THEY share one last kiss before ARMIE heads offstage.)

ARMIE: Good luck with your current project, Ben. (HE exits stage right.)

BEN: Take care. (HE waves goodbye to ARMIE, who is now completely offstage. Sighing contently, he heads back to his work area, humming “Now and Forever” from _The Pebble and the Penguin._ )

(Curtain)

**Author's Note:**

> I just found out about the Axeman today, so it inspired me to write this. Also, I couldn't resist having Hux play When the Saints Go Marching In on soprano sax.


End file.
